


Decyphering

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related: Cypher, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair works on figuring out exactly what his sentinel means to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decyphering

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, I've always wanted to do a Cypher scene. I know there's a ton out there already, but...but...this one's different! 
> 
> Many thanks to Maggie for helping me out!! Also, as always, thanks to Gayle. Oh yeah, and we can't forget to thank Mr. Lash.

## Decyphering

by Sheryl

* * *

Decyphering  
by Sheryl 

He wasn't sure how long he'd been here, drifting on the edge of consciousness. It seemed like a long time though, too long, but finally his brain kicked in at least enough for him to begin to wonder about things. Like, where was 'here' and why was he having such a hard time waking up? And now that he thought about it, he didn't think he should be sleeping. He was fairly certain he should be awake. He should wake-up, open his eyes. C'mon eyes, a little cooperation would be nice. "too tired," he muttered under his breath. 

"You okay, Chief?" The soft, concerned voice brought him back to reality; with great effort, he opened his eyes. 

"Ummm..." It took a moment to make his eyes focus properly and then he realized he was lying on a gurney in the ER with Jim Ellison standing beside him. He felt strange, almost like he was floating. He could hear noises in the background, but they were muffled and distant-sounding. He blinked his eyes, trying to clear away the fog. There was something he needed to remember...if he could just keep his eyes open. 

The warm hand on his forehead did nothing for his concentration. The voice murmuring in his ear was lulling him back to sleep, not helping him remember and he needed to remember...something. 

"That's it...just close your eyes..." 

Need to keep them open, Jim. Open, open.... An image popped into his mind, an image of a woman's face, her eyes open -- open and staring. Open, glazed over, unseeing eyes -- yellow scarf around her... Oh my God. Lash. Blair tried to push himself up, he had to be sure that Lash wasn't there. 

"Whoa, whoa! Take it easy, Sandburg!" Blair felt hands on his shoulders; pushing him back down and he struggled against them for a moment. He needed to know if Lash was in here, because if he was, he needed to get away. "Come on, settle down. You're okay, everything's okay." 

Jim. Jim's here. Jim knows about Lash. It's okay then, it's okay. Jim wouldn't let Lash in there. He wouldn't. 

"That's it, just relax." Reluctantly, he did so, allowing the detective to guide him back down on the gurney. 

"Lash..." 

"He's dead, Chief. Remember?" 

Dead? Lash is dead. He remembered now -- okay. Blair nodded and took a few breaths, allowing himself to relax a little more. 

"There's nothing to worry about. It's all over, buddy." 

It's all over...except it really wasn't. Because, this was about the hundredth time this week he'd almost gotten killed! What the hell did he think he was doing trying to play cop? He must be out of his fucking mind! Over a paper? Was his research really worth all of this? God, he needed to get his head on straight! 

He needed to go home, he didn't want to be here. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah, Chief. I'm here." Blair felt the warm hand on his forehead again and forced his uncooperative eyes to open. Jim looked tense, worried. 

"Home." He cleared his throat. "Take me home?" 

Jim's expression softened and he smiled down at Blair. "Soon." 

Blair continued to gaze at the detective, studying his features. Jim Ellison was something of an enigma. Those blue eyes that now were so soft and compassionate could change in an instant to cold and hard. His mouth could go from warm smile to intimidating sneer. 

He was not going to think about Jim Ellison's mouth. Do not even go there, Sandburg. Okay, maybe he should close his eyes. Anything to take his mind off of that mouth. 

"That's it..." 

Because, Jim Ellison was his research subject and he couldn't think of him as anything more than that. Because, anything more than that would taint his research. His paper, his thesis would be inconclusive, unacceptable. And even if it did get accepted, he'd know it was a fraud and he knew he wouldn't be able to handle that. Perspective, what he needed was to put things back in perspective. 

It's not like he could just run out and find another sentinel. He'd searched for his sentinel for so long -- as long as he could remember -- why the hell would he throw it all away? 

* * *

"Chief? Blair? Hey, I thought you wanted to get outta here?" 

"Hmm...?" 

"Come on...open those eyes." 

Blair's eyelids fluttered and he squinted against the bright lights of the treatment room. 

"Musta fallen asleep." 

"Yeah. Here, why don't you try sitting up and get these on." Jim was holding the jeans he'd had on earlier along with a gray sweatshirt that looked humongous. 

"What's this?" Blair asked after he'd managed to sit up and clear his head a little. 

"One of my sweatshirts. I had it in the truck. Yours is even filthier than the jeans...unless you're particularly fond of the hospital gown. I mean, it's up to you." 

Blair nodded and accepted the clothes. He attempted to get them on himself, but was still a little unsteady and ended up allowing the detective to assist him. He tugged the sweatshirt over his head in a hurry, wondering what the straight-laced detective would think if he'd happen to notice his...uhh...jewelry. 

"Ready to go?" Jim asked as Blair signed the last of the discharge papers. 

"Definitely. I hate hospitals, man." He'd been given instructions, of some type, but he didn't really remember what the doctor had said. 

"Come on, then." Jim wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Blair leaned into him. As he was guided out of the hospital, it occurred to him that having Jim this close felt way too good. Oh well, after this experience, he deserved a little indulgence. 

* * *

Once he was settled in the truck, Blair let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Jim was being over-protective, going so far as to buckle his seatbelt for him. Well, he did save my life, so maybe he feels he has a stake in it now. Like a Blessed Protector. 

He remembered as a kid, reading an old Chinese folktale that told of a warrior saving the life of one of his comrades. Afterwards, whenever the soldier had looked over his shoulder during battle, the warrior had always been there -- guarding him. It turned out that the soldier was in fact, heir to the throne and many years later, on the day he was crowned Emperor, he finally asked the warrior why he had always been there and watched over him. The warrior told him that after saving his life, the life had become something of great value to him and he'd simply felt the need to guard and to protect it, as he would anything of great value. The new Emperor had then officially appointed the warrior as his most trusted advisor and granted him the title of 'Blessed Protector'. 

Thus, the Chinese believe that when you save a man's life it's your duty, from that day on, to be responsible for that life. 

The 'Blessed Protector' story had always stuck out in his mind. Even as a child, he'd always thought it was a very cool concept, always wished he had one. He'd always wished he would one day find a real sentinel, too. And now, it appeared he had both. Sentinel and Blessed Protector, all neatly wrapped in one fine package - Jim Ellison. 

So, what else could he ask for in life? He had his sentinel, was pretty close to having his Ph.D., had a nice place to live, a classic car, beautiful girlfriend.... He shuddered as the image in his mind of Christine transformed, yet again, into the image of Susan Frasier's lifeless gaze. 

"You cold, Chief?" 

Blair turned his head and opened one eye. "I'm fine." 

Jim nodded, reached over and turned the heat up a notch anyway. 

Blessed Protector. 

Where was he? Oh yeah...cool car, hot girlfriend. So, why was it that every time he thought of Christine, Susan Frasier popped into his mind? And, stranger yet, why was it that every time he pictured himself kissing Christine, Jim Ellison popped into his mind? 

Get a grip! Anthropologists don't kiss their research subjects. They just don't, man. It's bad science. He couldn't help but chuckle at that, but he didn't bother to open his eyes. Jim probably thinks I've lost it. Maybe I have? 

* * *

"You doin' okay, Sandburg?" Jim watched as Blair got into the bed. The calm demeanor he'd had all this time seemed to be slipping a little, Blair noted. Jim looked anxious, sort of nervous and on edge. 

"Yeah. Thanks, Jim. What about you?" 

The detective sat down on the edge of Blair's futon, arranging the blankets \- tucking him in. And, oh man! Naomi could take a lesson, here. 

"Warm enough?" 

Blair laughed. "If I get any warmer, I may spontaneously combust." 

"Okay, okay." Jim's features relaxed and he smiled back at Blair. "Smart ass." 

"Jim?" Blair pushed himself up on his elbows, gazing earnestly into the detective's eyes. "I don't know what's wrong with me..." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean...I feel...I'm confused..." Great communication skills there, Sandburg. And what the hell did he think he was doing talking to Jim about this, especially now? 

"Confused about what, Blair?" 

Oh that's great -- "Blair"? He chooses now to use my name? "Blair"...In that voice? And so close, when "Blair" has, like, zilch self-control. 

"About you...well, no, mostly about me...I don't know." Blair sighed and then noticed that Jim seemed to be watching his mouth as he talked, intently staring at his mouth, as a matter-of-fact. And Blair was really having a hard time not doing that thing he'd been wanting to do. "Jim?" 

"I'm listening." 

"Well, I just..." How did he come out and say he was afraid? -- afraid he was getting too close. How did he tell Jim that risking life and limb on a daily basis went way, way above and beyond his obligation? That because of these feelings - - these feelings he couldn't quite figure out -- he was afraid that he was biasing his study - invalidating his thesis. 

And God, Jim was slowly, slowly leaning toward him and he was getting closer, so close now that all Blair had to do was lean forward, just a little and.... 

Before Blair could complete that thought, Jim's mouth was grazing softly, so gently over his. He felt Jim's breath; felt his warm, moist lips just barely touching; felt the tip of his tongue lightly teasing and Blair couldn't stand it anymore. He gave in -- leaned in, allowing desire to take over -- he needed to taste Jim. And he opened his mouth as Jim pushed him carefully back on to the pillow. He relaxed and savored the feeling of Jim's tongue sweeping into his mouth -- the taste, the feel of Jim, his sentinel. 

Damn, the man could kiss! He wondered vaguely if there'd be anything left of him but a melted puddle after they were done...and then, he wondered if being an excellent kisser had anything to do with the sentinel thing. Hey, he couldn't help but think of these things -- it was his job. And then for many minutes, he was unable to think at all. 

Suddenly it was all perfectly clear. Of course he could do this research properly. He needed to, Jim needed him to. After all, who else was going to figure all of this sentinel stuff out? And if he loved Jim -- which he did -- well, then he'd better do a damn thorough job. Why wouldn't he want to get close? to risk life and limb? 

Maybe, in a way, he was Jim's Blessed Protector, as much as Jim was his? 

And when Jim pulled back, smiling a little ruefully, Blair reached up and reverently touched his cheek. 

"You scared the shit out of me today." Jim told him, his voice sounding a little gruff, a little shaky. 

"Scared myself too." Blair shrugged, glancing shyly up at Jim. He could tell Jim wanted to apologize, he could see the guilt -- it was right there -- threatening to crash through the detective's already weakened barriers. Blair didn't think he could take Jim's guilt, couldn't handle it if Jim apologized, so he did as any blessed protector would do. "Jim, I think I owe you an apology." 

"What?" 

"I sort of took advantage of you there, man...and I'm...well, I'm really sorry." 

"*You're* sorry?" 

"Yeah, man. Here you invite me into your home, let me ride with you, save my life and what do I do? Kiss you, man, that was so out of line." 

"Blair..." 

"No, no. I'm serious. Not to mention the fact that you're sort of vulnerable right now...you know, with finally getting some control over your senses after going through all that you did and you probably feel some sense of gratitude toward me and I just totally take advantage of you and...I hope you can forgive me." 

Jim seemed to study him for a moment, then cleared his throat and shifted to stand up. "You're so full of shit, Sandburg." He grinned, stood up and pulled the blankets back up. "Get some sleep." 

"Sure, Jim." Blair smiled brilliantly, watching as Jim switched the light off and headed for his own bedroom. 

* * *

Perspective, Blair thought as he felt himself drifting off to sleep. He'd managed to get his priorities all straightened out. What really amazed him is that he felt peaceful and kind of content, in spite of the horrific encounter he'd just gone through. Being helpless in that chair, with Lash taunting him, knowing this could be the end - had been the single, most terrifying experience of his life. In all honesty, he didn't think he could ever handle being in a situation like that again. Actually, he was seriously doubting his ability to hold up the next time he went on any call with Jim. But for now, he was safe and alive - thanks to Jim. Whatever might come tomorrow, well, he'd just have to deal with it. He knew he wouldn't be alone. 

He had Jim, his sentinel and that was about all he'd ever really wanted. He planned on giving his all, doing his absolute best, putting everything he had into this most invaluable research. Because, now he could see that it was so much more than just research. His goal was ultimately the same, but his purpose had changed entirely. 

And no, he wasn't kidding himself, he knew that in all probability, it would take an entire lifetime to figure everything out, but he would become an expert on Sentinels -- he could do no less. He had a personal stake in his sentinel's life and that life had become something priceless and irreplaceable to him. 

He was Jim Ellison's Blessed Protector, a duty, a commitment he would reverently and whole-heartedly carry out for the rest of his life. That would be Blair Sandburg's greatest achievement. 


End file.
